In a photographer’s shop in downtown Multan, on October 17, 1944, my Chacha Ji, Sardar Inderjit Singh, stood by my side, holding my sweater to keep me steady for the picture. I was just a little boy then, barely able to sit upright on my own, but he made sure I stayed in position. My Biji had knitted that sweater herself, and she had dressed me up especially for the occasion. She told me there was a Diwali Photo sale in town, and this was the perfect time to get a photograph taken.
The photographer was smart—he somehow managed to grab my attention just long enough to capture the shot. The shop was just a few steps away from Bhai Nand Lal’s house in Mohalla Agapura, a place deeply tied to our history and spirituality.
Looking back, it feels like a small miracle that this photograph survived. It traveled from Multan to India after Partition and eventually made its way with me here to the USA. It’s a piece of my story, a snapshot of a time and place that no longer exists in the same way.
When I showed this photo to Gobind and asked him how it compares to me now, he cheekily said, “It’s from your tummy—you pop out.” That made me laugh. It’s moments like these, carrying echoes of the past into the present, that remind me how precious these memories are.
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